The Ferryman
by Lady North the Cynical
Summary: Post-film. Jack deals with the fallout from a thwarted mission. Epps tries to move on from the events on the Graza. And a skeptical Pastor is forced to come to terms with the presence of the supernatural. Feedback Welcomed.
1. Chapter 1: The Locket

**Author's Note: **_The first bit is just a bit of backstory, I don't plan for it to really do anything else. This chapter really is all backstory. Bit of niceness before we really kick things off._

_Reviews would be nice._

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_ It wasn't enough. Despite everything Lucifer tried in the West, and even in the East, he lost souls to his enemy daily. His triumph had been at the dawn of time, where all of humanity had fallen. But – blast and damn him – his enemy had found a way to thwart him._

_And so, the cunning Lucifer had devised a plan. The chink he had created in the metaphorical armour of humanity made them awfully susceptible to any number of things. Gold, good food, a beautiful woman. Such simple things. And nowhere were such faults as strong as in the West. So he had sent out the man they call The Ferryman. To force one final, damning sin, and thus salvage souls._

_A last ditch effort, but it seemed to work. Until now. The Ferryman allowed himself to be thwarted. Thwarted by a woman. Despite his outrage, Lucifer had to smirk. Ironic that that woman had destroyed his plans whereas Eve had unwittingly assisted them._

Her life was less than it had once been. She was reduced to a small apartment. The walls were a disgusting shade of khaki, but she had plastered them in photos, so you could hardly see the wall colour. Every photo she had was on those walls. Photos of her crew. Anything to remind her of better days as she went about her daily life.

She left the salvaging business. It seemed to be the most obvious course of action. She took an office job in the city, but left after three weeks. No, she was not meant to work in an office. But what, instead, could she do? All she knew was salvaging, and there was no way she could go back to that.

The answer came to her one day as she attended her weekly appointment with her psychiatrist. (The hospital's idea of course. They all thought she was crazy.) She sat in a chair, saying nothing (as she usually did) and fingering the locket around her neck absently. She didn't know she was doing it, until her shrink asked to see inside. Epps nodded and opened it up. "Is that your grandparents?" her shrink asked. "No," Epps replied, speaking for the first time in a month. "Those are Katie's parents." It was an automatic reply. She had hardly involved her brain in the process. "Who is Katie?" Dr Hill asked. "Just a…friend," Epps replied, choosing her words carefully.

The little ghost girl. Her parents would never have known what had become of her. On her way home from her visit, she stopped at an electrical shop and bought the first laptop she could see. The second she got home, she ignored the growing pile of washing, the dishes in the sink, cleared a space on her kitchen table, plugged in her laptop and switched it on.

A year later, she had begun to build herself a respectable name as an author. She wrote a children's series about a little girl from the sixties. Children across the globe enjoyed hearing of Katie's adventures; _Katie and the Big Sea Voyage, Katie in New York City_, and Epps was now working on _Katie_'s _School Project. _The stories were simple, but children do love simplicity.

That is what Maureen Epps did with herself. She gave Katie Harwood back the life that was stolen from her.

Stolen from her by Jack Ferriman.

She could let go of that. Jack Ferriman had not only stolen Katie's life, but her own as well. The life she should have had; running the salvaging business with Murphy, spending months at sea with the monkeys she called her family. So that was why she had one room dedicated to a most peculiar hobby.


	2. Chapter 2: The Corkboard Room

**_A/N: Sorry it's been so long between chapters. I will try to keep updates coming more frequently from now on. (But we have all heard that before. Please don't shoot me if I take ages, I will try, promise!) Reviews would be nice, but aren't necessary. _**

**Disclaimer: **_Ghost Ship, _its characters, and its plot were created by Mark Hanlon. I am simply a poor sod who is so desperate for story ideas that I have to sponge off someone else's.

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An entire room covered in corkboards. Pinned to the cork boards are photographs of ships. Every ship that has gone missing and thus spun legends is pinned to that wall. Pieces of paper accompany these photos. Passenger manifests, cargo lists, itineraries, even transcripts of radio transmissions. Some of the ship's names are highlighted.

A most peculiar hobby. Particularly for a children's author.

April 20th, on board _The Transit Lux. _The Ferryman marched through the ship, while a weedy little historian cowered in a dark corner. He knew where the wretched soul was hiding, and so he took his time, relishing in the fear radiating from the tiny man. "Let me guess," said an unexpected voice from behind him. "He led you to some great mysterious vessel that was going to make all your dreams come true, and then he killed you all off one by one?" The tiny man wimpered. There was the sound of footsteps, then there was the sensation of warm breath on his neck.

"That is the way it works, isn't it, Ferryman?" The Ferryman smiled evilly. "Maureen Epps," he said, turning round. "Couldn't get enough of me, eh?" He slipped an arm round her waist. "Oh I think the world has had quite enough of you, Jack Ferryman," she said coldly, grabbing his arm and twisting it into his chest. The tiny man seemed to have deemed this the perfect opportunity to escape, as The Ferryman heard his little feet pattering down a hallway. He didn't even care. The plan had changed. He massaged her hand with his, and bent his head close to hers. "That's not very nice," he said in a low, seductive tone. He moved to kiss her, but in an instant she had broken her hand free of his grip and was two metres away, with a handgun loaded and aimed at his chest. "Don't you remember? You can't kill me" The Ferryman reminded her.

"And don't you remember," Epps replied calmly. "How _explosive_ my anger can be?" Immediately, the Ferryman saw them. Charges placed through the hull of the _Transit Lux, _ready to sink the ship, and free the souls. Epps smirked. The Ferryman frowned. "I'll find another ship," he said through gritted teeth. "It doesn't matter how many thousands of souls you set free, I always trap more." Epps pulled a detonator from her pocket and held it up for The Ferryman to see. "And I will always stop you," she replied. Then she pushed the button, ran for a nearby exit, jumped into a motorboat and sped away. The ship began to sink, and The Ferryman saw once-marked souls set free.

They met atop Mount Everest. The winds were strong, and for lesser beings, it would have been freezing. The Ferryman, at least, was not cold, for he was being blasted by the fiery breath of Lucifer. "You let her win!" Lucifer roared. "No my Lord, I swear I didn't," The Ferryman insisted, bowing low. "Don't think I do not see what is happening," Lucifer continued. "I am not _blind. _I can see that you are developing _feelings _for the woman." The Ferryman stayed very quiet. "You could at least deny it," Lucifer observed angrily, stomping about. "Do not forget, Ferryman," Lucifer said icily. "Why you are in my service to begin with." The Ferryman kept his head bowed. "Immortality, my Lord," he replied quietly. "Yes," Lucifer hissed. "Immortality. A gift. That I may take away as I see fit. Remember this." The Ferryman bowed again. "Of course, my Lord."

When he stood up again, he was around the corner from his next target.


	3. Chapter 3: The Dream

**_Disclaimer: _**_I own nothing. Thank you._

_**A/N:** Shorter chapter, but there was no where else for it to go. Very strong Jack/Epps tones in this chapter. Ah, but you don't know what I'm going to do with them! Mwahaha! Enjoy!_

She was dreaming. She had to be. And yet, never had a dream been so detailed. The taste of the mint he'd just finished. The prickly feel of his end-of-day stubble beneath her fingers. The smell of the fresh sea air moving gently around them and tugging at the folds of her silk dress. The warmth of his arms round her waist, shielding her from the cold. Then the sound of a man crying 'stronger than Lucifer himself', a gunshot, and the smell of smoke. She woke suddenly with the last traces of the dream lingering in the air – he was screaming her name.

Epps flicked on the light, and exhaled heavily. She walked into the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. She frowned at the dishes in the sink, and began to wash them up. By the time she had finished that, the coffee had brewed, but she decided she didn't want any coffee. Epps sat at her kitchen table, her head resting on her hands. Why him? Why was the man in her dream Jack Ferryman?

To distract herself, she turned on the television and flicked onto the news. The local news was covering the imminent maiden voyage of the _Lady Avalon, _an Atlantic cruise ship, a luxury liner if ever there was one. She would be sailing in two weeks, and there were still a limited number of suites available. The highlight of the cruise was apparently the medieval ball on the final night of the voyage. Epps snapped to stare at the television as all the pieces of her dream fell into place. Jack Ferryman would be on that voyage. He would try to take another ship. She would have to stop him. Hopefully that would not have to involve kissing him.

Epps reached for the phone, and dialled the booking number. Opted for first class travel, and booked under her relatively well known pen name (Clare O'Wilde – her mother's maiden name) so as to be able to access most areas of the ship (some areas were for V.I.P.'s only). Then, with nothing else really to do, she sat down to finish _Katie's School Project. _Afterall, she may not live through this.

The Ferryman, meanwhile, went from staring at the _Lady Avalon _to staring at the first-class ticket he held in his hand. "Another day, another dollar," he muttered to himself. Though, strictly speaking, his work didn't actually start for another two weeks, when the _Lady Avalon _set sail. He roamed the dock, and came to a diner, with a sign boasting the best coffee in town. Well, he had to investigate _that, _didn't he?

Twenty minutes later, he concluded that it was quite possibly the worst coffee in town, but the waitress was a stunner, so he left a generous tip.


	4. Chapter 4: The Lady Avalon

**_Disclaimer: _**_Nothing belongs to me. Except for Pastor Mitch (who doesn't really count as he is kinda based on someone I know)._

**_A/N: _**_Things may get a little complicated this chapter, but stay with me; in the end it will all be clear. I hope. Enjoy!_

She was here. He could feel her. He had no idea how she had known, but that no longer mattered, because _she was here! _The Ferryman had no idea if his heart was racing because of anger, or something else, but he chose to believe the former. But somehow, both emotions – however conflicting – agreed that the best thing to do would be to stick to the plan that formed in his mind that night on the _Transit Lux._

Make her fall in love with him.

He walked out on deck to enjoy the fresh sea air. The American coast was still visible behind them, but was quickly growing smaller. Suddenly there was a crashing sound behind him, and he turned to find three children, sitting on a sun chair. Well, the little girl was. Very prim and proper and grown up she looked too, lounging regally on the chair, reading a book. Her companions – two boys of about the same age – were playing with action figurines; Mr Fantastic vs Gandalf the White. It was they who'd made the crashing noises. The Ferryman focused his vision on the title of the book the girl was reading. _Katie and the Big Sea Voyage. _The name caught his attention. Katie. The little ghost who was responsible for Epps' eventual thwarting of his salvaging mission. But The Ferryman knew there was no way the book could be about _her. _There was a subtitle too, which The Ferryman couldn't quite make out. He moved closer to the children so as to try and see it, but a nearby woman – clearly a mother of at least one of the three – gave him a guarded look. The Ferryman did not particularly feel like dealing with maternal instincts at that point, so he walked back inside to investigate the ship.

There was, he soon discovered, a bookshop on level two, which The Ferryman wandered through absently. At least, until he came across a display. The display was for books by a woman named Clare O'Wilde. There, in the centre of the display, he saw that book. _Katie and the Big Sea Voyage. _He stared for a moment. The subtitle, he could now see, read _The most excellent account of Miss Katie Harwood's journey to America. _He couldn't believe it. This was a story about the little ghost girl! How could Clare O'Wilde possibly know about the little ghost girl? He reached for the volume and flipped it over to the back cover – and then froze.

Clare O'Wilde was Maureen Epps! There it was, the black-and-white photo of Epps, half-smiling at the camera lense, and the little 'about the author' blurb. _Clare lives in a one-bedroom apartment, and calls herself 'a cat-lady – without the cats!'. She can salvage ships, drive a tractor, and loves miso-ramen. _"This," The Ferryman thought to himself. "Is going to be interesting."

He was flung from his musings by a sudden uneasiness. He couldn't explain it, but suddenly the hairs on the back of his neck bristled, and he was on his guard. So he was startled when he heard a voice ask "Can I get by here?" The Ferryman turned. Beside him there stood a man in perhaps his mid to late twenties. He was dressed casually, with a strong metal cross around his neck and an ichthus symbol ring on his right middle finger. The Ferryman nodded, and stepped forward to make room. He kept a cautious eye on the man, who stopped not too far away in biographies. Without warning, a teenage girl came bounding up eagerly. "Pastor Mitch! Pastor Mitch!" she cried. 'Man of God!' The Ferryman realised. Every inch of him wanted to run away. He had heard of the power wielded by these 'Sons of Grace' (as the Enemy called them) and really had no desire to come up against them. The Ferryman wanted to run, but he had to settle for a quick exit from the store.

"You aren't considering abandoning the mission, are you?" said a familiar voice in his head. "You bet I am," Jack Ferryman answered (in his head). "Well unconsider it!" Lucifer demanded. "Sons of Grace are just as susceptible to temptation as everyone else!" "Yeah, but everyone else doesn't have the power of all-powerful Yahweh at their disposal," Jack retorted. Lucifer answered a roar so strong it gave Jack a terrible headache.

The Head Waiter tried to pretend as though he hadn't seen the young fellow walking up to him with a determined expression on his face. "Are you the head waiter?" he asked. "Yes, sir," the Head Waiter replied, acting oblivious to the lad's coming request. "What can I do for you? I am afraid dinner doesn't start for another few hours." "Jack Ferryman," the young fellow said in reply, sticking out his hand. The Head Waiter took it, and found that he had slipped two hundred dollar bills into his hand as he did so. The Head Waiter raised his eyebrows and dropped the charade. "She must be some woman, sir," the Head Waiter Observed, reaching for his dinner seating arrangements. "What's her name?" "Claire O'Wilde," Jack replied, hoping that the old man wouldn't recognise the name, as that could lead to awkward questions. Apparently he didn't, because the Head Waiter simply crossed a name off his list and scribbled in 'Jack Ferryman'. "It is done, sir," the Head Waiter announced when finished. "Thank you," Jack replied. "I shall see you at dinner then, sir!" The Head Waiter said as Jack turned to walk away.

Epps frowned at her reflection, and tugged on the hem of her skirt. She hadn't worn a cocktail dress – or any dress, for that matter – since Murphy's fourtieth birthday, when she was eighteen. But she couldn't do much about it, as the dress code for dinner demanded it. She shrugged. That would do.

She arrived at dinner, and a waiter showed her to her seat. "Claire O'Wilde," said the man opposite her ironically, with an amused expression on his face. "You don't scrub up too bad," he observed, with an approving nod. "You do your best work in a suit, don't you Jack?" she replied coldly. A hurt expression flittered across Jack's face. The other people at their table had no idea what was going on, but tactfully remained silent. "So," Jack began in a lighter tone, addressing everyone at the table. "Anyone else know what they want to order?"

**_A/N: _**_Sorry, I wanted to ask you all something, but it could technically be considered a spoiler, so I thought I'd better put it down here. If anyone has any ideas for how Jack should get Epps to fall for him, please let me know. If I can get your idea to fit into where this fanfic is going, I will probably use it, and you will get credit for it. I promise._


	5. Chapter 5: The Execution

_A/N: __Hi guys, I'm back! This chapter gets a little full on, but I think it's pretty good. Reviews appreciated._

A knock on her door. Epps sighed. There was only one person it could be. She opened her door. "What do you want?" she asked irritably, then stopped. The man on the other side wasn't Jack Ferryman. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said, surprised. "I thought you were someone else." "That's ok," the man replied. "I thought you'd be someone else too." Just then, a woman poked her head out of a nearby room. "Pastor Mitch," she said, with an air of authority. "They're in here." The man nodded, excused himself, and started to leave. "Wait," Epps called after him. "You're a priest?" Mitch turned. "Not quite. Different denominations." "Do you do confessions?" she asked, her mind racing with possibilities. Mitch smiled. "Again, different denominations. I'm a Baptist, so we tend to just go straight to God."

"Curious about the Supernatural, Epps?" said a voice from behind her. "Because, you know, I could always –" "what are you doing here, Ferryman?" Epps demanded, whirling round. Jack smiled, but not without a slightly nervous glance at the Pastor, who was now walking away. "Like you said," he replied with a smirk. "Business." "Not when I'm around," Epps shot back. Jack rested his hand on her shoulder, and let it slip down her arm. She shrugged him away. "Epps, all I'm asking for is a second chance," he said quietly. She glared at him. "You stole my family, you stole the life a little girl, you tricked me into trusting you. You don't deserve a second chance, Ferryman," she spat at him.

Epps didn't see it, but Jack flinched when she said his name. Everything she had said was true. But she hadn't seen him flinch at the way his name dropped from her lips with distain, hadn't seen the way his eyes tried not to dance whenever she was around. She certainly didn't know the number of times he _didn't _kill her on the _Antonia Graza, _the fact that he could choose to come bursting through the door she'd just closed, the door from which he now turned and walked away.

She was certainly unaware that Lucifer's once most honoured servant was becoming more and more human, and all because of her.

Jack lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling, considering himself and his past. Francesca. He'd needed her for his scheme to work. Although there'd been a lot of sex going on between them, there wasn't any real feelings, at least not on his side. He had grinned at the sight of her hanging from the ceiling by her throat. When he had been mortal, he had made a King's daughter fall in love with him with hopes of a kingship, and he would have married her too, except that someone caught on and he was sentenced to execution. (It was there that Lucifer had stepped in.)

But Epps was something else. She wasn't an accomplice, she wasn't a pawn in his ambitions of greatness, he couldn't even manipulate her into wanting to be near him. And he did so much want her to be near him.

"What are you doing, Ferryman?" Lucifer demanded, materialising before him and taking on Jack's form. Jack gritted his teeth. "Planning, sir," he replied, reluctantly rolling up to a sitting position. "Planning what?" Lucifer challenged. "How to make your enemy fall for you?" Jack's mind raced, searching quickly for a coverup. "Yes sir," he replied. The Lucifer version of Jack raised an eyebrow. "She is not a Child of Light," he explained. "She can be easily corrupted. It worked for Francesca." Lucifer nodded. "Good plan," he agreed. "Except you forgot the fact that Francesca never stopped your plans dead in their tracks!" He roared, lunging for Jack and wrapping his hands around his neck. "I'm going to relieve you of this burden," Lucifer whispered menacingly in Jack's ear, before disappearing into thin air.

"No," Jack croaked to the empty room.

****

A knock on his door. "Mitch," said the voice on the other side. "Open up." Mitch sighed. He ought never to have come on this youth trip. He'd barely had one moment to himself the whole time. He opened the door, to find Maggie Russell – one of the leaders - on the other side. "Sorry Pastor, I know it's late," she said apologetically. Mitch glanced at his watch. Twelve-thirty in the morning. "Or early," he replied ruefully. "Come in."

"What's the problem?" he asked, sitting down and gesturing for Maggie to do the same. "I'm not sure," she replied. "I just feel like there's an evil presence surrounding this ship. Like, I dunno, an evil spirit, or something." Mitch sighed and leaned forward to rub his hands across his face. "Maggie," he began carefully. "You're not thinking straight. There's no such thing as evil spirits."

****

Epps shot up in bed. Someone was pounding on her door. "Epps, get up!" She groaned. It was Jack. Angrily, she threw open the door. "What is it, Jack?" she demanded. He was wild eyed and in a dreadful hurry. "Quick, you have to come with me, right now!" he said, reaching for her arm to escort her out. She moved out of the way. "What's going on, Jack?" she asked, her eyes cold. "I don't have much time, he's coming, and I think he wants to kill you," he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her along. "Who?" Epps asked irritably as they hurried along. She was still in her pyjamas, with a bathrobe thrown over the top. "Management," Jack replied shortly.

They reached the bow of the ship. "Jack Ferryman, I demand you tell me just what the hell is going on here!" Epps yelled at him. Jack's face was expressionless, as he pulled a gun from somewhere about his person, and began to check the magazine. A single bullet. "Management isn't happy, Epps," he said, flicking the magazine back into place and walking a few paces away.

****

"Haven't you _read _the bible?" Maggie asked, standing up in shock. "Jesus spent a third of his recorded ministry casting out demons!" Mitch held out a hand in an attempt to calm her down. "Maggie, that was back then," he said quietly. "This is now. That whole idea, it doesn't exist anymore." "Would it hurt to pray about it?" Maggie asked, sitting back down on the couch beside him. Mitch sighed again. "No Maggie," he conceded. "It wouldn't hurt." And so the two of them bowed their heads and began to pray.

****

Every inch of Epps' body was on guard and alert. She didn't know exactly what Jack was up to, but from the way he'd pulled out that gun, she could give a pretty good guess. "Why should I care if 'management' is happy or not?" She asked warily. Jack turned to face her. "Because if management isn't happy, then I'm not happy," he explained, a strange look in his eyes. "And if I'm not happy, then it's very bad for you." "Why me?" she asked. "Because you're the bitch that made management unhappy."

Epps took a step back, towards the railing. "You still haven't told me what is going on, Jack," she observed coldly. Her heart was pounding. She knew the answer before he answered. "Execution," Jack replied ominously. He flicked the gun off safety, aimed at her chest, began to squeeze the trigger…when another figure came tearing down the side of the ship. "Epps, get away from him!" the man cried. She turned to see who spoke – and her mouth was open in shock. How was that possible? It was Jack Ferryman sprinting to save her from, well, Jack Ferryman. The second Jack crash-tackled the first, who, in the struggle, fired his only bullet.

"Stay away from her, Lucifer," the second Jack growled through gritted teeth. The first – Lucifer – grinned. "Alright," he sneered. Jack began to choke, as though he was suffocating. "But if you want your immortality back, Ferryman, then I'll need another boatload." Then he was gone. Jack's choking subsided. Epps exhaled heavily and slid down the railings. "Who was that?" she asked quietly. Jack looked at her, weaker than she'd ever seen him (though, granted, she hadn't seen him that often). "That, my dear Epps, was Management."


	6. Chapter 6: The Question

Chapter Six

"Management?" Epps asked warily, getting back up. Jack nodded and sat up, cautiously. "He goes by a handlful of names," he explained, extending his arms slowly, then pulling back in pain and rubbing his elbow. Epps took a step backwards as Jack began listing them. "Lucifer, Beelzebub, Satan, the Devil." "How gullible do you think I am, Jack?" she asked. "I suppose next you'll be saying that God exists too." Jack didn't reply, he just stared at her with a blank expression. "No fucking way Jack," Epps exclaimed in disbelief. "Think, Epps," Jack said quietly. "Is it really so hard to believe?" Epps looked uncomfortable. "I don't know what the hell is going on here, but I do know that it's fucked up," she said, her voice not exactly strong. With that, she turned and hurried away. "Epps!" he called after her. "Fuck off, Jack," she yelled back.

She was angry because she was starting to believe him. She hurried away because she didn't want to think that it was possible. But it made too much sense. It explained too much. What happened on the _Graza, _and what had happened just now on the _Lady Avalon. _Anything to do with religion made her nervous. Her elementary school had been one of the more…forceful Catholic schools, with itchy uncomfortable uniforms and callous nuns. She rubbed her neck absently, reminded of those scratchy collars she'd had to wear.

Epps lay down and tried to sleep, but her mind just would not stop racing. After an hour or so, she gave up on all hope of falling asleep, walked into her ensuite bathroom and turned on the shower. She ran the water just a step down from scalding, hoping that the steam and the heat would clear her mind. It did help a little. After about fifteen minutes, she got out, got dressed into a t-shirt and jeans, and put the kettle on. After five cups of tea, she made a decision. The last two may have been laced with a dash of whiskey, but the decision was still made, and that was what mattered.

She went to find the Ferryman.

***

There he stood in the open doorway, dressed in nothing but some satin boxer shorts. He smiled. "Am I dreaming?" he asked wryly. "Don't bother Ferryman, I'm not in the mood," she said, pushing past him and walking into his suite. "Are you saying that there have been times when you have been?" Jack asked, closing the door. Epps gave him a death glare. Jack sobered up quickly. Suddenly uncomfortable at being in such a state of undress, he picked up a bathrobe that had been lying across the back of a chair and pulled it on. Then he waited for Epps to speak.

"So, you're telling me that your Management is the devil, yes?" she demanded, crossing her arms and pacing the room a little. "I am," Jack replied, patiently. "So that makes you…what?" she asked. "A demon?" "Not quite," Jack answered. "I was to be executed for a lifetime of sin, when he came and offered me immortality in exchange for my service." Epps nodded. "So you're a servant?" she asked. "Something like that," Jack answered, sitting down. "And God exists as well?" she asked, still walking to and fro, trying to get her head around everything. Jack bristled. "Yes," he replied through clenched teeth. "That's why Management started this salvaging business." "Right," Epps nodded, then stood still for the first time in the conversation, her right hand on her hip, tapping her left index finger against her lips, thinking. "Are you going to try to get your immortality back?" she asked presently. Jack didn't know how to answer. He could say no, and then, perhaps, he and Epps could have something of a future. Would that be a lie? Management had betrayed him so many times, he would almost be grateful for the freedom. But immortality is a hard thing to pass up.

"No," he replied. "Epps moved towards the door. Before she stepped out of the door, Jack sprang up, and caught her by the elbow. "Come to the ball with me?" he asked.

She would never quite understand why she said yes.


	7. Chapter 7: The Pastor and The Ferryman

Chapter 7

Walking back to her room, Epps came across Pastor Mitch stepping out of his, bible in hand. "Pastor Mitch," she said in greeting. "You're up early," she observed. "So are you," he replied with a smile. Epps pulled out her key, and fumbled with the lock. "I never really slept," she admitted. "Early morning bible study?" she asked, nodding towards his bible. "Something like that," he answered. "I know it sound lame, but God woke me up a little early this morning for his own reasons. Plus," he added sheepishly. "I didn't really sleep either." She couldn't explain it, but her heart started pounding. "Actually, it's a good thing I ran into you," she began awkwardly. The Pastor gave a quick glance towards the heavens, as if to say to his God "you did this, didn't you?" "Would you like to come in for some tea? Or coffee," she amended, remembering that he, like herself, had not gotten much sleep.

Ten minutes later they were both seated opposite each other in the two armchairs in Epps' suite, mugs of coffee in hand, engaging in small talk. "So, what did you want to know?" Pastor Mitch asked finally, after a short, slightly awkward silence. "I wanted to ask you about the supernatural," Epps replied. Mitch's eyes went wide, and he choked on his last swig of coffee. "Ok," he replied once he had recovered. "Well, to be honest, I don't really believe there's too much of it about." "Are you kidding?" she asked. "It's all through the bible." "You've read it?" Mitch asked. "Parts of it," she answered. "I went to a very Catholic elementary school."

Mitch thought for a short time before he replied. "Well, Epps - it is Epps, isn't it? – I don't think anything supernatural is around anymore." Epps took a deep breath. "I think you're wrong, Pastor," she replied. She'd decided she could trust this man with what happened on the _Antonia Graza, _and so she told him what had happened. She then proceeded to tell him about what had happened on this voyage. When she was done, the young pastor stayed silent for a long time. Sometimes Epps noticed his lips moving slightly, correctly assuming he was praying.

"Well, Epps," he said at last. "You seem to be a logical woman, you've certainly got your wits about you, so I'll trust that you are telling the truth." "How decent of you," she replied, not without a touch of sarcasm. "I don't quite believe it is all real yet, but I'll trust you. The question is, what happens now? Jack said he wasn't going to try to regain his immortality." Epps nodded. "I want to believe him, but it wouldn't be the first time he's." "I can't say I blame you for that," Mitch agreed, absently picking up his bible. "Is there anything in there that could help?" Epps asked, gesturing towards the great leather bound volume. "I wouldn't be surprised," Mitch smiled. "I'll do some research in my spare time. If he tries anything, I want to be ready."

Pastor Mitch was absent minded all day. Many small objects were knocked off tables, and more than one fellow traveller was bumped into in the halls. That the supernatural elements of the bible were still alive and well was something of a new concept for him. He'd been brought up to believe that all that had died out after biblical times. Now he found himself reading much of the New Testament in rather a new light.

"Earth to Mitch," Maggie called, snapping her fingers in front of his face, effectively pulling him from his thoughts. He was in one of the coffee shops, a once steaming cup of coffee now rather lukewarm. "What's up?" she asked, sitting down next to him with a sizable square of chocolate brownie. "You've been drifting all day." Mitch sighed, had a mouthful of coffee, then regretted it. Coffee was never at its best lukewarm. "I'm starting to think you were right," he admitted. "Of course I was," Maggie agreed enthusiastically, examining her brownie. "What are we talking about?" She finally decided which part of brownie she would bite first, and did so. "Last night, about the supernatural," the young pastor answered, jogging her memory.

"Oh, that," she replied nonchalantly. "These are really good brownies, by the way." Mitch dropped his jaw in surprise. "How can you be so casual about it?" "Well," Maggie said, gathering her thoughts. "It's an important part of our beliefs, but we have to remember that it's not all of what we're about. Only part." Mitch nodded. They moved in to talking about lighter subjects; mostly the strange antic of some of the teenagers they were chaperoning and the rising price of petrol.

The voice echoed across the coffee shop, though nobody else stopped to look. "Man of God," it called. Both Maggie and Pastor Mitch look up to see the figure of a man standing in the doorway. "Yes, I'm talking to you," the man spoke again. "Come with me," he commanded. Mitch stood to obey, but Maggie pulled him back. "Let go of him, woman," the man said. She obeyed, suddenly finding great interest in the remains of her brownie. The man walked away, and Mitch followed.

They walked in silence, Mitch a few paces behind him. He followed the man into a dance studio (there were ballroom dancing classes every evening). The man stopped somewhere near the centre of the room. Mitch kept walking towards him. "That's far enough," the man commanded, taking a step back. Mitch obeyed. "You're Jack Ferryman aren't you?" Mitch said, crossing his arms. Jack clapped his hands sarcastically. "Very clever, Man of God," he said dryly. Mitch bowed ever so slightly. "What do you want of me, Ferryman?"

"Keep away from Maureen Epps," Jack ordered. "Excuse me?" Mitch exclaimed at the audacity of such a command. "You heard me, Man of God," came the reply. "Keep away from her." "What authority do you have, that you can order me around?" Mitch asked defiantly. "I don't want to have to hurt you, Man of God," Jack said. "Poppycock," Mitch snorted. But then Jack shifted a little and the Pastor realised that he spoke the truth. "Taking on Men of God tends to work out the worse for my comrades and me," Jack explained. "But believe me, Man of God, if I have to, I will do it."

With that, Jack turned and marched out a door on the opposite side of the room, leaving the Pastor alone with his thoughts.


End file.
